In My Fantasy We're Running Wild
by greaserslady
Summary: Picks up after "The Battle of the Bastards", so Season 6 spoilers ahead. Tormund attempts to work with Jon to improve relations between the people of The North and the Free Folk, while also preparing for the coming war. The last thing he needs is a distraction, but that's exactly what he finds in Winterfell. Tormund/OFC
1. Chapter 1

Tormund was half dead as he followed the "chambermaid", whatever the hell that was, through Winterfell's winding halls. His wounds weren't severe enough to require medical attention. Even if they were, he would have refused. There were hundreds of his men with far more serious wounds waiting out in the yard for anyone with even a little bit of knowledge about healing to patch them up. That's where _he_ should be, with his people, helping them set up camps outside of Winterfell's walls.

Instead, Jon had pushed him towards a waiting woman and urged him to take a room in the castle. At that moment, too tired and in far too much pain to argue, Tormund simply nodded and did as he was told. He was certain his people would give him grief about it the following day. But right now the only thing he could think about was collapsing onto a soft surface and letting sleep overtake him.

The woman led him into a room that already had a fire roaring in the hearth and several lamps lit throughout, casting a decent amount of light into the space. The bed immediately drew Tormund's attention and he started towards it.

"Excuse me, sir," the woman softly called out to him, her voice hesitant. He stopped and turned to look at her and she backed up slightly. The look on his face must have shown his irritation.

"What is it, girl?" he growled out, wanting very much for her to leave so he could get on with passinfg out.

Timidly, she motioned to a large metal tub off to the side of the room, steam rising from the hot water within. All of a sudden every fiber of his being forgot about the bed and craved to be in that water. He couldn't remember the last time he had a hot bath.

"May I?" she asked, and he was surprised to see that, while he had been staring at the glorious tub, she had moved to stand just in front of him. Her hands were poised at the straps of his outerlayers and he realized she was asking permission to help him undress.

"Can't Southern lords undress themselves?" he gruffed, though didn't swat her hands away as she began tugging on the leather and fur of his coat.

"I've found that most lords don't care to do much for themselves," she replied, though so softly that he barely caught the words.

Normally he would have laughed, but the energy to do so just wasn't there. He stood still as she stripped him of his clothes from the waist up, then shed the rest himself as she averted her gaze. The water was the most incredible thing he had ever felt as he sank down into the tub. The warmth sank into his frozen bones, making him groan with relief.

Leaning back, he was surprised to find a towel folded on the edge of the tub for him to rest his head on. When two gentle hands began massaging soap into his hair, he almost shot upright. He twisted around and saw the young woman had knelt behind the tub and was attempting to wash his hair.

"Don't you have better things to do, girl?" he huffed, though he did turn around and settle himself back against the tub. If she wanted to wash his hair for him, who was he to deny her? And it did feel incredible, now that he expected her fingers to dip into his wild mane.

"I was told to make sure you were treated well tonight, sir," came her reply.

Tormund's mind immediately went to filth and, if he had the energy to spare, he's sure his member would have twitched with her words. "And what all does that involve?" he attempted to flirt halfheartedly.

Her fingers never paused in their ministrations and she calmly replied, "Making sure you're bathed, clothed, and fed, sir. And not a single thing more."

Tormund quietly chuckled at her answer. Surely she was used to men trying to make a pass at her. His mind was hazed over with exhaustion, but he had registered that she was a fine-looking lass; perhaps a bit young for his thirty-five years. "How old are ya?"

"I just had my twenty-third nameday, sir." The maid began using a cup to rinse the soap out of Tormund's hair, her fingers still working through the curls.

The wildling hummed in response, leaning his head forward so she could reach the back. Perhaps she wasn't too young for him; it's something he would have to think about further when he had all of his wits about him.

When his hair was done, the girl began washing his back with a soft cloth. He could feel her small fingers lightly touching all of his scars as she passed over them, no doubt wondering how he came about possessing so many. There would be other nights to thrill her with his tales of fights and battles; tonight he was content to let her bathe him.

She moved around the tub so she was facing him, ready to begin washing his chest, when his hand shot of the water and gently grabbed her wrist. Her surprised gasp filled the room, followed by the sound of the washcloth hitting the water as she dropped it. He looked at her eyes to see if she was afraid of him, but he only saw curiousity shining back at him. Perhaps it was naive on her part, but he found that it pleased him to know that he didn't terrify her. She could prove to be a bit of fun for him here in Winterfell.

"I can do the rest," he said, letting go of her wrist and fishing the discarded cloth out of the water. "Best not to start anything we can't finish," he added, a flirtatious smirk peaking through his beard.

To his amusement a blush covered her cheeks and she stepped away from the tub, allowing him some privacy as he finished bathing. The soap stung all of the cuts on his body, but he'd rather them sting while getting cleaned than have them sore with infection. When he was finished and the water started to cool, he stood and took the towel that was blindly offered to him, the girl's eyes firmly fixed on the stone floor.

"There are night clothes on the bed, sir," she told him, pointing to the large, fur-laden bed.

As he was getting dressed, he heard the girl start emptying the tub, one bucket at a time. Without a word, he picked up a second bucket and began bailing the tub out with her. She started to refuse, but the look on his face must have told her that he wasn't going to listen. He refused to allow someone else to do all of the work while he sat on his ass. He may be in a lord's room and wearing a lord's clothing, but he was still one of the Free Folk, and Free Folk carried their own weight.

When all of the water was dumped out of the bedchamber's window and into the snow below, Tormund finally crashed into the bed that he had been dreaming of all night. It was just as soft as it looked and his body practically sank into the feathers and fur. "These southern lords definitely got one thing right with these beds," he grumbled, already half asleep.

"I'll bring you some breakfast in the morning, sir," the girl said as she eased her way toward the door.

"If you call me 'sir' in the morning I'll throw that breakfast at you, girl," he told her, only half joking. "My name is Tormund, and I'd have your's, if you want to share it with me."

"Evelyn," she said, pausing in the doorway. She smiled coyly before adding, "Goodnight, Tormund."

"So there's no chance of you joining me in this bed, is there, Evelyn?" Tormund managed one last attempt at flirting, his eyes closed and his voice groggy. He heard her laugh quietly before he was lost into the depths of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of sausage stirred Tormund out of his sleep, though it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He could hear someone adding logs to a fire and that, paired with the heavy blankets covering him, brought back memories of the previous night.

"Breakfast is on the table, Tormund," he heard Evelyn's quiet voice from beside the hearth.

He grinned to himself when she used his name, the threat he had issued echoing in his mind. When he sat up he saw that she was just finishing stoking the fire and standing to look at him. In the morning light he could appreciate her features much better; he was pleased to find that she was even more attractive than he remembered. She had golden hair that she kept tied away from her face in a somewhat messy fashion. Her eyes were light, maybe blue or grey, and her lips were nice and plump. Her skin was light, probably from working indoors most of her life, and was flushed from being so close to the fire.

With a full night's sleep in his system, Tormund found that he was much more keen on getting to know this lass. "Are you married, Evelyn?" he not-so-subtly asked, standing from the bed and stretching.

He could swear that she almost laughed before she caught herself, turning away from him to begin making the bed. "I'm not," she answered simply.

"How the hell is that possible?" Tormund sat down at the table that held his breakfast. Sausage, eggs, bread and some cheese covered the plate. It was a hearty serving and he was glad for it. His stomach was twisted from hunger and he dove into the food like a ravenous dog.

Evelyn shrugged, focused on making the bed instead of looking at him. "I've always been working; haven't had much time for romance," she finally said, though Tormund suspected there was more to it than that.

"Hmm," he hummed through his food. He watched as she moved around the bed, her hips swaying this way and that as she shook the blankets out. She caught his stare over her shoulder and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"You're a flirt, aren't you Tormund?" she asked. She was frowning like she disapproved, but her eyes were shining with laughter.

Tormund laughed loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "A flirt makes promises he doesn't intend to keep," he told her. He stood and moved towards her, enjoying the way her eyes scanned him warily.

"And what promises are you making?" she asked shakily. Her back hit the wall and she put her hands up to stop him from completely boxing her in.

He leaned his chest against her hands, his own hands coming to rest on the wall above her head. Looking directly into her eyes, he calmly said, "That I could show you what a real man is like, instead of these southern pussies who let a woman like you slip past them."

Evelyn took her bottom lip in her mouth, her cheeks flushing with color at his words. One of his hands was almost on the side of her face when she suddenly blurted out, "Lord Snow requested to see you as soon as you were finished breaking your fast."

Tormund growled with frustration. "We shouldn't keep Lord Snow waiting, should we?" She shook her head and he stepped back, allowing her the room to slip around him.

She fussed with her hair nervously. "There are some clothes for you by the fire," she motioned to a pile of clothes folded neatly on a chair. Picking up the breakfast plates, she walked to the door. She hesitated for a moment, as if she was having an internal debate, then looked at him for the corner of her eye. "I could draw another bath for you tonight, if you'd like." Again her voice was quiet and he almost didn't hear her, but he was happy that he did.

With a pleased grin, Tormund gave her a single nod. "Aye, lass. I'd like that." And with that, she was out the door, closing it gently behind her.

* * *

Evelyn stood with her back pressed against the door, a hand over her mouth in shock. Did she really just say that?! What was she thinking? She rushed away from Tormund's room and to the kitchens, in search of her best friend.

"Hadley?" she called, dropping the plates she held into a wash bin. There was a muffled 'over here!' from inside the pantry. Evelyn made sure they were alone before plopping herself down on an overturned bucket, accepting the knife and potato her friend handed her. Together the women would make quick work of peeling the vegetables, if their talking didn't slow them down.

"How did everything go?" Hadley asked, a knowing smirk on her face. Evelyn had filled her in on the previous night as they prepared breakfast early that morning.

"Exactly as I thought it would," Evelyn said, flushing once again while remembering how close Tormund had been to her. It was both terrifying and exciting. She'd never met a man that intrigued her the way that he did.

When the Wildling commander had made his way into the castle with Lord Snow, Evelyn had been among the servants there to greet them. He was covered in mud and blood, a wild look in his eyes. The way he walked was confident and strong; she knew right then that she was captivated by the ginger-haired man. She had approached Lord Snow and offered to make a room ready for Tormund, whose name she didn't even know at that point.

Hadley chuckled at her friend's pink face. "Did you expect anything else? You practically stripped the man last night."

"He was filthy! That bath was completely necessary!" Evelyn attempted to defend her actions, but her eyes stayed on the potato she was peeling.

"Aye, but your assistance was not," Hadley pointed out. Evelyn had the _very_ mature response of sticking her tongue out.

It had been worth every risk she took; Tormund proved to be every bit of the man that Evelyn envisioned when she first saw him. His chest was firmly built, the muscles standing out under his scarred skin. A light smattering of hair matched the red locks on his head. She hadn't dared to look any lower; her normally shy demeanor had definitely won out on that end.

"I offered to draw him another tonight," Evelyn whispered. She smirked as her friend looked at her with wide eyes.

"Evelyn! Who knew all it would take was a Wildling to draw you out of your prudish ways?" The girls dissolved into laughter as they continued to prepare lunch.

* * *

 _A/N: I want to say thank you to all of you lovely readers, especially those who took the time to review and/or follow! I was really surprised by the outpouring of excitement for this story and I needed to get another chapter up for you lovlies right away. I hope you like Evelyn and her interactions with Tormund this chapter. Please don't hesitate to let me know if you feel like something is off or if Tormund is out of character. I live for those notifications of new reviews! ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!" the lords and their banner men rang out, while Tormund and the Free Folk remained silent. They'd never bend their knee to any king, and Jon knew that, but they'd fight for him until their last breath left their lungs. It was a good thing, these lords all uniting behind Jon. The Free Folk knew what laid beyond the Wall; they knew it would take every man they could scrounge up to fight that evil.

As the hall began to empty, each man stopping to shake Jon's hand, Tormund grasped Ser Davos around the arm. "It looks like we have another king," he murmured to the older man, echoing their conversation from just two nights prior. They had both been so sure of themselves and their respective kings; Tormund of Mance Rayder, and Davos of Stannis Baratheon. Was it foolish to rally behind another? Would they be left with the taste of disappointment in their mouths?

"Aye, it certainly does," Davos replied, glancing at Jon awkwardly receiving his newest allies. "The difference is, Jon Snow never wanted that title, or the power that comes with it." He clapped Tormund on the shoulder before making his way toward Lady Mormont.

"Let's get out of here," Tormund told his men, and they brushed past the lords to make their exit. As his men filed out of the hall, he paused to shake Jon's hand, stepping in front of the man who had been waiting. With a quick tug, Tormund pulled his friend into him for a friendly embrace.

"You'll look mighty pretty with a crown on your head, King Snow," he teased, a grin playing on his face. Jon tried to glare at him, but ended up laughing loudly. The lords looked uncomfortable with their new king's friendship, most scowling at Tormund's mere presence. The commander of the Free Folk was not bothered by their hostility towards him. It was Jon's opinion that mattered; not their's.

With a pat on Jon's back, Tormund left the hall and rejoined his men. "Tell me about the camps," he instructed them as they walked out of the castle.

"We set up on the south side of the castle, like you told us. It's helping to block some of the wind. Hunting seems to be good in the Wolfswood; though with so many of us, I don't know how long that'll last."

"We'll send parties to scout further out once we're more settled. We'll be needing to earn the trust of these Southern twats, lest they slaughter us the second we leave Winterfell."

"Speaking of twats, I saw that fine piece of bird that led you away last night," one of the younger men said, elbowing Tormund suggestively.

Never one to be shy about his intimate life, Tormund grinned easily. "She sure was a sight for weary eyes, lads."

"And...?" another man prompted, eager for the smutty details. Their leader was always more than willing to entertain them with his endeavors.

"First, she offered to undress me. She took her sweet time and I was hard as a rock by the time she got to my trousers. There was a tub full of hot water waiting for us and I took her as soon as we got in. I was her first, you see. But I made sure to fuck her good and slow, working her open nice and wide, and by the end of it she was already asking for another go around." Tormund was quite the story teller and the men were hanging on each word. When it was clear he had said all he was going to, they laughed with him and slapped his back.

The men hooted and scattered once they reached their camp, no doubt to find women of their own to fulfill the fantasies Tormund planted in their minds. It didn't bother him that he had made up the tale about he and Evelyn. If he had his way that evening, it would become more than a tale soon enough.

* * *

Evelyn sat with a group of other servants at a table furthest away from that of the newly crowned King in the North. She was happily chatting with Hadley and a few of their friends as they ate dinner. With all of the northern lords gathered, it was only appropriate that there be a feast in King Jon's honor. They were enjoying the music and the fine food, even if they got the tail end of it, but the head table kept Evelyn's attention throughout.

Tormund was seated to the left of King Jon, looking every bit as wild as that morning. His head was often thrown back with raucous laughter, causing those around him to laugh as well. It was clear to her that he was one for dramatics, always waving his arms around enthusiastically as he told stories. She was curious if that enthusiasm carried into other aspects of his life, or if he was more of a stoic lover. She couldn't imagine him being quiet for too long.

"And what has your attention, Evelyn?" Ann, another one of the maids, asked, her hand waving in front of Evelyn's face. Evelyn blushed at being caught spaced out, choosing to finish her glass of wine instead of answering.

"Our little Evelyn has her eyes set on a man," Hadley chose to announce, much to the amusement of the rest of the women seated around them. Evelyn sent an empty glare at Hadley, but smiled nonetheless.

"Do tell us more," Ann goaded, bumping her shoulder into Evelyn's.

"I will do no such thing," Evelyn teased, holding her nose up in the air. "A lady musn't kiss and tell."

Loud, wine-induced giggles trailed from their table, causing others in the hall to look in their direction. They were a fine assortment of young ladies, though low-born, and many of the men close to them gave appreciative glances. It was only a few minutes later when a few young men approached their table, offering to spin them around the dance floor for a song or two. Evelyn's friends jumped at the invitations.

"How about you, miss? Fancy a dance?" another young man asked her, his hand outstretched. He wore a mermaid embroidered on his doublet, signifying him as being loyal to House Manderly. His clothes were finely made, and Evelyn wondered if he was one of Lord Manderly's sons.

"No thank you, my lord. I'm not much of a dancer," she smiled as she refused his offer, not wanting to offend him. Another night she probably would have taken his offer, but not with her mind set on another. It wouldn't feel right to have his hand's on her body when it was Tormund's she craved.

"You think you'll get a better offer than mine, _servant_?" he spat back at her. His sudden change of attitude caught her off guard and, if she were being honest, frightened her a bit.

"My lord, I didn't mean to-" she attempted to apologize, but he clearly didn't want to hear it. With his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, he yanked her up from her seat. Now that they were closer together, Evelyn could smell the alcohol strongly on his breath. He had consumed far too much ale and wasn't in his right state of mind, not that his normal state was much better she had to assume.

"I believe the lady said she didn't care to dance," a strong, gravelly voice came from behind them.

Turning around, the Manderly boy came face-to-face with Tormund. Startled, he backed up, dropping Evelyn's arm. She wasted no time in moving to stand behind Tormund.

"Who do you think you are?" the drunk demanded, recovered from his initial shock.

Tormund stepped closer to him, ensuring his words would sink into the younger man's head as he glared straight into his eyes. "I'm the man who will make you piss blood for weeks if you put your hands on her again."

With a shaky nod, the Manderly boy wandered off to rejoin his table. Evelyn was torn between scolding Tormund for speaking to a lord's son that way, and kissing him right here in front of everyone.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his hand coming up to gently lay on the arm that the Manderly had grabbed. His touch sparked the fire that been burning all day, urging it into a full roar.

"Let's get you that bath," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the throngs of people, out of the dining hall.

* * *

 _A/N: Another chapter! Yay! Let me know what you think, please! Also, I have a question. I'm thinking of introducing Tormund's daughters into the mix. I'm assuming only those who could fight came down from the Wall with the army, and the rest stayed behind. So in the coming chapters I'd like to bring the rest of the Wildlings to Winterfell, possibly including the two daughters Tormund referenced in one episode. What do you think? If you like the idea, what ages do you think they should be, and does anyone have suggestions for names? Any input is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for taking the time to read! :)_


	4. Chapter 4

Tormund could barely contain himself as Evelyn led him away from the dining hall, her hand tugging him along as if he couldn't move fast enough on his own. In a swift movement, he had the young woman scooped up and tossed over his shoulder. She let out a shriek of surprise, then giggled profusely. He imagined the wine had worked its way to her head, making her a little more open to his advances.

The maid and her friends hadn't escaped his sharp eyes when they took their seats in the hall. Neither did the fact that Evelyn kept stealing glances at him over her wine glass. When that little rat of a man approached her, he had already been on his way to her table. He had wanted to move her to sit with him, maybe even pull her onto his lap if she'd allow it, but as soon as the whelp grabbed her arm he saw red. He liked the lass, that much he knew. To what degree he hadn't had time to discover yet, but he'd be damned if he let anyone else move in on the young beauty. It was a miracle she wasn't claimed already, as fine as she was.

Reaching the room that temporarily belonged to him, he shoved the door open and immediately slammed it closed behind them. He gently tossed Evelyn onto his bed, chuckling as she made an 'oomph' sound. "How much wine have you had tonight, lass?" he asked as he knelt before the low-burning fire. He tossed a few small logs in, bringing it back to life. His boots were removed before he sat on the bed beside her, waiting for her answer.

"Only two glasses," she told him, propping herself up on her elbows. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. "Why? What does that matter?"

With a pleased grin, Tormund moved so he was kneeling on the bed, then slowly crawled over to envelop her body with his own. One of his large hands settled on her hip, gently applying pressure. He ducked his head so his lips were at her ear. "Because I want to make sure your head is clear. I want you remember the way I make you feel tonight."

* * *

Evelyn shivered at his words, warmth and wetness already creeping into the apex of her thighs. This was the most intimate position she had ever been in before and she was equally terrified and exhilarated. Her heart was hammering so quickly against her chest that she was sure she'd die right then and there. So what did she do? The only logical thing, of course.

She kissed him.

It wasn't her first kiss, but she wouldn't go so far as to say that she was experienced, either. But when he had pulled away from her ear to look at her, her head had instinctively moved to press her lips against his. She caught him by surprise but he was quick to react, pushing her head back into the blankets with the ferocity of his kiss. His beard tickled and scratched her face, which she always thought would be off-putting, but she found she quite enjoyed it. Tentatively, her hands moved to comb through his hair, much as they had the previous night.

When his tongue licked her lips, she gasped in surprise, unwittingly granting him access to her mouth. The feeling of his tongue running along hers was oddly intoxicating and she slowly started to respond. Their kiss lasted a few more moments before Tormund broke away, instead moving his lips to attach to the tender flesh of her neck.

As he kissed, licked and nipped his way around her throat and down to her collarbone, Evelyn panted and writhed with a newfound desire beneath him. He had moved his hand from her hip to the back of her knee, moving her legs enough so he could kneel between them. With the pulsing heat making her womanhood almost painful, she pressed herself down against his groin.

"Easy, Evelyn," Tormund's voice was hoarse as he looked up at her from where he was slowly unlacing her bodice. In her excitement she hadn't even noticed him working the knots open. "There's no rush. We have all night."

"All night?" she squeaked, and he chuckled in response. Could he really intend to spend the entire night doing _this_? Was it even possible, physically? From the things she was told by the married servant women, their husbands took longer to undress than to perform the actual act.

Instead of answering her, Tormund reclaimed her lips in a heated kiss. His hands finally had the laces of her bodice undone and he pulled it open, exposing her breasts. He cupped one gently in his hand, the rough callouses rubbing against her nipple and making her moan lightly for the first time. She blushed as the noise left her mouth and tried to stifle the next one, making it come out as a whimper.

"None of that," Tormund gently commanded. "I want to hear you moaning loudly, Evelyn. Let me know that you like what I'm doing to you." He moved himself down her body, so his face was level with her breasts, and slowly licked around the nipple of each one. Evelyn couldn't have stopped the moan that erupted from her, even if she tried.

With insistent hands, she tugged on the front of Tormund's shirt. "Take this off," she told him, though timidly. Was she supposed to ask him to do things, or was she supposed to lay still and take whatever he dished out?

Tormund grinned at her request, clearing her mind of all doubts. "Aye, lass," he said, as he knelt to rip the shirt from his back.

Her fingers roamed the newly exposed skin, her nails gently scraping the various scars they came across. His muscles felt so nice under her touch; so masculine and very much him. She hesitated as her hands reached the waistline of his trousers, her fingers gently dipping just below the fabric and running along the front. Tormund growled low in his throat, his eyes locked with hers.

"Careful, girl," he warned, his hands slowly moving up her legs, the skirt of her dress inching up with them. "Are you sure you want to keep going?"

Evelyn was overwhelmed, physically and emotionally. She was about to give up her virginity to a man she had only known for a day. A Wildling, no less. She was conflicted about saving herself for marriage, but one look at the man above her shattered her resolve. He was wild, as the term inferred, there was no denying that. But he had been so gentle with her up to this point, and now he was asking her one last time if she wanted to keep going. A man of his character didn't come along often. If she was going to give it to someone, she was happy to allow him to take her maidenhood.

"Get me out of this dress, Tormund," she firmly told him, a smirk forming on her lips.

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "There's the fire I've been waiting for! I knew you had it in you."

With a firm tug, he had the dress up over her head in one move. As she wiggled herself out of her underclothes, Tormund stood to make quick work of his trousers. As she tossed her clothes off the bed, she caught sight of his engorged member. Her face must have shown her surprise, because he smirked arrogantly.

"Don't worry, Evelyn. I'm going to get you nice and wet so I can slide right in," he hoarsely whispered to her, climbing back over her body.

Evelyn could only nod, trusting in him to fit that enormous thing inside her womanhood. Her eyes widened as his head moved to rest between her legs, his hands holding her thighs spread apart for him.

"What are you-" she started to ask, but immediately moaned with pleasure as his tongue gave her folds a long lick. She laid down fully, her back arching up off the bed to try to get herself closer to his mouth. "Tormund!" she yelled, feeling one of his fingers slide into her.

"That's it, Evelyn. Yell my name so this whole bloody castle hears you," Tormund told her, his mouth working the mound of nerves at the top of her folds.

"Something's, oh, Tormund! I can't, I can't," she chanted, breathing heavily. It felt like she was going to break apart, but at the same time she never wanted him to stop. Suddenly, just as he pushed a second finger inside of her, she felt her inner walls clenching around his hand. She threw her head back and yelled profanities at the ceiling as her first orgasm ripped through her.

Distantly, she heard Tormund chuckling. "That's my woman," he said as he moved to kneel above her once again. She could feel his huge member poised at her center, ready to be granted access.

Coming down from her high, she shifted so her legs were bent at the knee, opening them as wide as she could for him. She could feel the slickness between her legs and knew it was time to give him some pleasure. "Fuck me, Tormund," she said, looking him in the eyes as she wrapped her hands around his muscled arms.

Her words seemed to take him by surprise, hell, they took _her_ by surprise. He leaned down and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue and whimpered, her folds becoming even more wet. She felt him slowly beginning to push into her and her body tensed. He was _so big_. Her body was fighting to allow him inside.

"Relax," he purred into her ear. His hand moved around her to gently rub her lower back, making her body soften considerably. As he pressed in further, a burning pain made her groan softly. She had heard that the first time always hurt, she just hadn't been as prepared for it as she should have been.

When he was completely inside of her and their bodies were entirely joined, he moved his hand between them, his thumb finding that bundle of nerves once again. As he pulled out of her, she was distracted from the pain by the pleasure he was giving her. He worked slowly at first, giving her plenty of time to adjust to him, but after a minute or two he started to pick up speed.

He lavished her mouth, neck and breasts with kisses as he fucked her. Her pain began to subside entirely as he rubbed his member against a spot inside of her that made her toes curl in delight. She panted his name as he hoarsely whispered hers. When she felt another climax coming, her nails dug into his shoulders as she yelled his name again.

"I'm going to come on you, okay, Evelyn?" he asked her, though she didn't know what he meant until he was already doing it. Just before his climax hit him, he pulled his member out of her and aimed it at her lower stomach. With a couple quick pumps of his hand, he spilled his seed on her porcelain skin.

She gasped in surprise as the warm liquid hit her. She'd never heard of such a thing in her life, though she was obviously inexperienced. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice shaky as she tried to catch her breath.

Tormund took a moment to recover, his head pressed into the crook of her neck. "Surely you know how babies are made," he teased, chuckling as he stood from the bed. She watched as he retrieved a towel from beside the tub, admiring his naked form, before he moved back to her side and cleaned his seed off her stomach.

"Of course I do," she said, realizing how reckless she had been with her body. He tossed the towel onto the floor and laid down beside her on the bed, one of his strong arms pulling her against him. She rolled onto her side, one of her hands lying on his chest.

"Well, if my seed doesn't get into you, you can't get pregnant," he told her, his voice laced with sleep. "It ain't foolproof, of course. Shit can still happen. But it's better than filling you up and hoping for the best."

His bluntness was oddly charming to her, and the fact that he had the sense to think ahead. She placed a soft kiss to his chest and moved to leave the bed.

"Where you going, girl?" he asked, his arm pulling her back to his side.

"To my quarters?" she replied, assuming that he would want her to leave.

"The fuck you are," he answered, and pulled the blanket over their naked forms.

She smiled to herself, tucking her head into his chest contentedly. As they both began to drift to sleep, she couldn't help but whisper to him. "Tormund?"

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"That was amazing," she told him, placing another kiss to his chest.

"I know," he simply said, though she could hear the smirk in his voice.


End file.
